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THE WHIFFLETREE CHAIR lift is a four-passenger, high-speed quad design that was manufactured to lift its patrons 1,100 feet to the top of the mountain. It is located on the mountain’s east side, which Blackwell, Daniella, Alexa, Cutter, Brock, Madison, and I moved toward after we’d been fitted with our gear and had said our farewells to Alex, who wanted to take one of the mountain’s more challenging trails.
“These skis,” Blackwell said as she slid unsteadily along the flat, snowy grounds that led to the lifts. “Already, I can appreciate them. When you think about it, with these on my feet? It’s as if I’m a goddamned supermodel in one of Uncle Karl’s runway shows and that I’m simply sporting a ridiculous pair of five-inch heels. Naturally, I can do this. Obviously, I was born to do this. I just need to put my poles in the snow like this—and look at me! Off I go!”
“Oh, this is so not going to end well,” I said to Madison.
“I think she might be a little over-confident...”
“When isn’t she?”
“Come on,” Blackwell called out to all of us as we trailed after her. “I’m not going to freeze my ass off out here all day. Let’s move it!”
Perhaps because of the pending holiday, the lines to board the lift were practically nonexistent. With Christmas so close, it was as if we had the mountain to ourselves. In this case, that meant about a five-minute wait to get onto one of the lifts. From my college days alone with Lisa, I could remember coming here and waiting at least thirty minutes for a lift. A five-minute wait was unheard of to me.
“Barbara,” Cutter said. “This is what I need you to do right now. See those people ahead of us? Watch how they enter the lift. Pay attention—do you see how it’s done? Do you see how they sit down the moment the lift nudges against the back of their knees? That’s what I need for you to do. Just put yourself into position when it’s our turn, let the chair catch you before you sit down, and then either Jennifer or I will pull the bar over us so we don’t fall out.”
“Fall out?” she said. “We could fall out?”
“We’re not going to fall out—that’s what the bar is for. I’m just talking about the process.”
“All of this is a non-issue,” she said. “I’ve conquered mountains higher than this in my lifetime. Bring it on!”
“Oh, shit,” Daniella said. “She’s being way too cocky. I smell disaster...”
“I didn’t hear that, Daniella!”
“Mom, I’m happy that you’re doing this, but skiing is going to take some getting used to. I’m worried about you. Just go slowly, OK?”
“Slowly?” she said. “Look at how fast those chairs are fleeing those people away from us. This is no place to be slow. One must be on their game—and I can assure you, Daniella, that I am on my game.”
When Blackwell said that, a striking man in his mid-fifties with dark hair graying at his temples turned around to look at Barbara. He was standing just in front of her, and when he looked at her, he lifted his goggles onto the top of his head, revealing eyes that were as blue as the sky. He was about Alex’s height—tall and lean—with a dimple in his chin, and what clearly would have been a heavy beard if he didn’t shave.
“Good morning,” he said to Blackwell.
“Excuse me?” she said, surprised to hear a stranger speak to her, which rarely happened in Manhattan, but was the norm at a friendly ski resort in Maine.
“I said, ‘good morning.’ It sounds as if you’re ready to ski.”
“I’m sorry, but do I know you?”
He smiled when she said that, and when he did, it lit up a handsome face that was tan from perhaps too much time on the slopes. And yet for his age, which was damned close to Blackwell’s, he was nevertheless well preserved, much like Barbara herself.
“You don’t know me,” he said. “But maybe we could meet?” He extended his hand to her. “I’m Marcus Koch,” he said.
“You’re Marcus what?”
“Koch,” he said as she lifted her hat over her ears so that she could hear him better. “You know, as in ‘Coke’.”
“Oh!” she said. “Well, what a relief! I thought that you said—well, let’s just say that it’s best if it’s left unsaid.”
“Oh, my God,” I heard Daniella whisper. “She thought that he said ‘cock’.”
“With this hat over my ears, I thought I heard something entirely different,” Blackwell said. “How embarrassing. How deep into the basement of me. It’s too early in the day to hear something like that.” She shook her head as if to shake off the course the conversation was taking and then took his hand in hers. “Barbara Blackwell,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Koch. Are you here to ski?”
“Am I here to what?”
“Oh,” she said. “How silly of me. Of course you are. We are, after all, standing in line to board the lifts. And you are, after all, wearing a ski suit and skis. And other little ski bits...like your goggles and gloves, and that sort of thing.”
Was this man rattling Blackwell? Could she, in fact, be attracted to him? I’d never blame her if she was—regardless of his age, he was hot. I couldn’t imagine what he must have looked like in his youth. But since I’d never seen her interact with a man her age who appeared to be single and who was singularly good looking, I had to wonder whether she was indeed attracted to him. Because when did Blackwell ever stammer?
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re new to this?”
“New, but nevertheless determined.”
“You’ve never skied before?”
“Never. First time. Typically, I try to eschew the snow,” she said as the line nudged forward.
“And yet look at you—completely prepared for the snow. I have to say that that’s some suit you’re wearing.”
“You think? I wasn’t sure. When I put it on, I was riddled with doubt even though it is Chanel.”
“Where are you from?” he asked.
“Manhattan.”
“Same here,” he said. “But I have a home here, so when the season is ripe for it, I come to ski whenever I can.”
“How outdoorsy of you.”
“You could put it that way, I guess.”
“You live in Manhattan?”
“Live and work.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a hedge fund manager.”
Oh, shit, I thought. This guy is totally loaded...
“Which fund do you hedge?” Blackwell asked.
“Too long to go into that now,” he said. “It looks as if I’m up next. Will you be at the lodge later tonight?”
“At the what?”
“There’s a bar in the lodge,” he said. “You know, in the building just behind you?”
“We only just arrived yesterday and this is my first time here. I haven’t been to the lodge yet. Is the bar worth a go?”
“It is,” he said as he slid away from her and claimed one of the lifts for himself. “So, you know, if I see you there tonight, I’d be happy to buy you a drink. Have fun, Barbara.”
And then he was off.
“What in the fresh hell was that?” Daniella asked.
“A spark!” Alexa said.
“Hardly,” Blackwell said.
“Oh, please,” Daniella said. “You actually stumbled over your words—and when do you ever do that?”
“I only stumbled because I couldn’t believe that a stranger actually spoke to me. And with what I initially thought was a vulgar-sounding last name.”
“That’s enough of that,” I said. “We’re up next. Let’s go.”
I took Cutter by the arm and lifted my lips to his ear. “She’ll sit in the middle. You take one arm. I’ll take the other. Does that work for you?”
“We’ve got this.”
And surprisingly enough, when we positioned ourselves in front of the lift with Blackwell locked in our embrace, there were no issues. We all sat down, Cutter closed the bar over us, we held onto our poles—and off we went as Daniella, Alexa, Brock, and Madison followed behind us in a separate lift.
“Well, that was an interesting exchange you just had,” I said to Blackwell.
“Please. It was nothing short of a fleeting moment.”
“Really? Because he straight out asked you if he’d see you at the lodge tonight. I’m pretty certain that he’s hoping that your ‘fleeting moment’ together won’t be that fleeting at all. I mean, come on—he was clearly coming on to you. All of us saw that. And he lives in Manhattan. And he’s a hedge fund manager, for God’s sake, which we all know means that he’s practically printing money. And by the way, did you have a good look at him? He was beyond handsome.”
“I see handsome men every day in New York—so what else is new? And I could care less about his money, assuming he has any.”
“Hedge fund,” I said.
“Fine. But what about his name? Koch! I thought for sure that he’d said something else. Something...subversive. But that was my mistake—and as embarrassing as it was, I’ll own it. When he first introduced himself to me, I couldn’t hear him with the lifts running and with my hat pulled over my ears. I’m sure that I looked like an idiot, but what am I to do about it now? Nothing. So? Onward.”
“We are so going to the bar at the lodge tonight,” I said. “He’s going to be there. I know it.”
“But to what end? Jennifer, I have zero interest in men at this point in my life—especially after what Charles did to me. I’m perfectly happy living my life with my friends and with my girls. I love my life as it is right now. Zero complications. I’m through with men, so can we just move beyond this? I mean, look around us,” she said as we took the six-minute ride to the top of the mountain. “Even I have to admit that that the views are lovely. While I’ve certainly never been known as a snow bunny, I can tell both of you this—I might become one. At the risk of sounding like Alexa, just breathe in the fresh air right now—nothing like Manhattan. And take in the scent of the evergreens—nothing like Manhattan. And look at us—high above the tree line. It really is quite something—unlike this year’s fall/winter collection, which was a goddamned disappointment.”
“You are so deflecting.”
“So what if I am? It’s my choice to do so, and I won’t hear another word of it. He simply engaged me. Am I supposed to react to a mere smile and a handshake? A flash of his bluer-than-blue eyes? Please. At this point in my life, I’m beyond that.”
“But why not be open to it?”
“I’ve already told you why.”
“All right,” I said. “Fine. But I think you might be missing out on something here.”
“On what? A chance greeting that took all of three minutes? I am not Daniella. I’m also not looking for someone to spend the rest of my life with. That part of my life is over with, and I’m fine with that. So, please—enough.”
For now, I decided to let it go.
“Are you cold?” I asked her.
“I’m swaddled in my Chanel tampon, which is perfectly warm.”
“Just checking!” I said.
As we rolled toward the top of the mountain, Blackwell apparently had a whole host of observations at the ready.
“Is that an eagle I see?” she asked about the bird flying toward us.
“That would be a crow,” Cutter said.
“Well—how unAmerican of me.”
A moment later: “Why are those people creating little snow globes down below us? How festive! How absolutely ‘Christmas’. Should I learn to do that?”
“Let’s just hope that you don’t,” I said. “Because all of those people you’re seeing creating their little ‘snow globes’ are taking one digger after another. That’s why the snow is exploding around them. They’re tripping up and falling hard.”
“Well, how perilous,” Blackwell said. “If that’s the case, those people are being reckless. And by the way, please don’t tell me that you’re taking me on that slope. Because now it looks completely inhospitable to me.”
“Of course not. Cutter and I are taking you to the gentlest trail on the mountain. What I need for you to do is to just listen to Cutter and me when we depart the lift, and you’ll be good.”
“‘Depart the lift,’” she said. “And how does one do that?”
“The lift doesn’t exactly stop. It just pauses for a moment so we can get off when we reach our destination. When it does, we simply stand up, and then we ski away from it. After that, we’re free to go wherever we like.”
To my surprise, when we exited the lift, Blackwell dug in her poles and whisked herself away from it and us with unusual ease. Could she do nothing wrong? Might skiing for the first time actually be easy for her? She never ceased to amaze me. When Daniella, Alexa, Brock, and Madison departed their own lift and joined us, I turned around to welcome them, and when I did, I saw that Marcus Koch was just off to our right, speaking into his cell phone.
“Your cock is here, Mother,” Daniella said. “And he’s standing right over there.”
“Can he even get reception up here,” Alexa asked. “Or is he just stalling...?”
“Girls, get a grip,” Blackwell said. “Why are you people making such a fuss over nothing?”
“Because of the way he looked at you?” Alexa said.
“Because of the way he flustered you?” Daniella said.
“Because he’s beyond good looking,” I said.
“Because of what Jennifer just said,” Madison said.
“Enough!” Blackwell said. “Let’s ski. What do I need to know before we tackle that slope? Cutter?”
“You’re going to want to control your speed,” he said. “That’s first and foremost. To do that, all you need to do is turn your skis inward like this. See how I’m doing it? When you do that, the blades will cut into the snow, and you’ll be in charge of how fast you go down the mountain. That is the number-one thing you need to know, so remember it.”
“Got it,” she said.
“Here’s another tip,” I said. “Ski from left to right, cut sharp and cut hard, because that also will slow your progress. What you don’t want to find yourself in is a situation where you lose control and are suddenly going straight down the mountain at a breakneck pace. That could be disastrous. That said, if that does start to happen to you, just fall back on your ass before it becomes too late for you to regain control. When you’re ready to go again, just pick yourself up, and start over. If you follow just those two simple instructions alone, I don’t foresee any problems. I mean look around you—five-year-olds are up here. Since you haven’t skied before, the slope will challenge you at first as you get your legs beneath you, but soon you’ll get the hang of it.”
“I’m about to crush it,” she said. “Let’s go!”
